


In a hole in the ground...

by thewallflower07



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Death, Disturbing Content, John comes to the rescue, M/M, Mary is the villain, Murder, One-Shot, POV Sherlock Holmes, Poor Sherlock, Post TAB, S4 doesnt exist because no one needs that, Sherlock!Whump, lots of bodies, protective!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 19:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13394820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewallflower07/pseuds/thewallflower07
Summary: Short One-Shot after the events of TAB.Sherlock is captured and forced into a terrible predicament. Somehow the world loves to see him suffer and the Detective fights with his own mind. After all that happened, after all the mistakes he made, does he still deserve love?





	In a hole in the ground...

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this make sense? Have fun reading through my thought process. This is basically my brain.

Sherlock was lying on Mycrofts corpse.

He couldn't help it, the cell was too small. One grown man could hardly lie down in it. It was like a small basement, hidden under the house.   
It's not only Mycrofts corpse. There are about 3 other bodies here, all lying on top of each other. Sherlock had only been there for two days, but he already stopped smelling the sickly sweet smell of the dead. 

Sherlock always figured he knew a lot about torture and imprisonment. If you are working as a detective you witness many gruesome things over the years. Not to forget the four days he spend in a serbain cell, being beaten and sleep deprived. Torture was either just a way of fun for the captor, or to get information. This time, it was different. Henry Smith didn't want revenge, he wasn't much interested in inflicting pain. No, Sherlock was simply an experiment. He wanted to see what it took to drive "the most magnificent brain in London" insane (Smiths words, not his).   
He remembered his kidnapping only vaguely, probably due to a blow on his head. Mary had hit him hard with her gun and he collapsed on the ground. Next, she shot Mycroft. She must have drugged him after that because he just couldn't stop screaming. There was a hole in his brothers head and Sherlock was sitting on his legs and the only thing he could do was stare at it. She then sold them both to Mr Smith, for an extra gun, ten thousand dollars and a new car. At least that was what Henry told him, after he woke him up with a bottle of water, cuffed his hands and ankles together and then threw him into this hole. 

"In a hole in the ground..."

John was wispering to him again. John. He always loved that novel the most. The doctor read it to him when he Mary put a hole into him. Oh, Mary. His greatest failure. Sherlock believed that she truly loved John Watson (because who wouldn't love him?) and would stay faithful to him, protect him. Just like Sherlock does. He was wrong and he brought John into great danger.   
They still don't know who had broadcasted Moriartys face all over England, but only hours after the Tarmac Scene Mary disappeared, leaving only a fake belly behind. If it would happen to anyone else, the situation would have been rather comical. Sherlock was quite surprised that John didn't seem to be very upset that he wasn't going to become a father. Later the doctor told him that he never felt like having a child. It just wouldn't fit into their lifestyle. They didn't have much time to discuss the whole issue though, after all there was an assassin on the run.   
A few days later Sherlock followed a strange call from Mycroft without consulting John. That's how he ended up here. Sherlock shuddered and draw his knees more tightly to himself. All warmth had left the bodies long ago and it was starting to get cold down there. Surely John must be searching for him? After Mary left he promised him that they would stay together from now on, always. John had kissed his forehead, promised that they would talk about it tomorrow and went to sleep. Sherlock broke that promise almost immediately. He left, looking for Mycroft, for Mary, for answers. After everything that happened, after 36 years, he just couldn't believe that Sherlock Holmes deserved love. Was loved by this impossible men. 

 

He must have fallen asleep, because next thing he knows someone is falling on top of him. He shrieks and tries to claw himself out of the hole, but there is no way for him to flee. A plastic water bottle is landing on his head and rolls down his body. Well, at least he would stay hydrated. Sherlock forces himself to get up and draps the body like he did with the others. All on top of each other, head on head, legs on legs. A single rule against the quiet chaos. 

The new bodie is a women in her sixties. In contrast to Mycroft she has a peaceful look. Maybe she was one of the lucky ones who died in their sleep. Her purple jacket reminded Sherlock of Mrs Hudson and he had to force himself not to throw up. 

 

There was nothing to do, except sipping from the bottle and trying to find a comfortable position. 

 

 

He forgot time, but he knows he is dying. Another two water bottles have found their way to him and he still drinks them. Clinging to the hope that maybe John was really looking for him. His clothes seemed to turn grey, like ash. His thoughts were muddled, his movement sluggish. Eventually, he stopped moving at all, just lay down on the bodies. His brother was dead. He failed with Moriarty, failed with Mary, failed John. Maybe he should do the world a favor and just give up. 

 

 

Sherlock thinks he smells like them now. The door opens and another someone falls on top of him. It's man this time, probably in his later thirties. Not very tall, barely covers him. Blond hair. Sherlock imagines that this will be the closest he will ever be to John ever again. 

 

 

Next thing he sees is light. Someone jumps down on them. He can hear lots of swearing. The short men is pushed away and John Watson is over him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him flush to his chest. He can feel one hand tasting for his pulse, while the other hand pushes his face into the soft jumper. Sherlock starts to cry. His brother is dead and he failed but John is here, he found him and surely he will make everything okay, like he always does. 

The doctor makes shushing noises into his ear and somehow manages to maneuver them both out of the hole and into the light. He can feel someone (Lestrade?) opening his cuffs, but he honestly doesn't care because his conductor of light is finally here. John bundles him into one of these hideous orange blankets and carefully carries him out of the house, leaving the hole, Lestrade and a screaming Henry Smith in handcuffs behind.  
Finally alone, at least for a few seconds before the paramedics arrive, John leans down and whispers into his ear: "You seriously thought you could run away from our big emotional talk, didn't you? Because we are going to have that conversation, and then I will kiss you until the end of our days."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a hour when I should have been sleeping. I haven't written in over a year and it feels great posting this! I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
